Ich möchte eine Kartoffel sein
by Thatsfinewithme
Summary: How would have the first and second world wars played out if the 2p characters were the stars of the show? Here's a hint: *a lot* darker. USUK, GerIta, Spamano, gore, violence and yaoi in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Warning: violence, gore, England's potty mouth

I own NOTHING.

The desert seemed to stretch on forever. America gulped up the remains from his water flask as his eyes scanned over his surroundings. It had to be a dream. _That was it._ A crazy dream. How else would he end up in this strange alien world with nothing but miles and miles of sand? He hadn't even a clue of whose house he was at. England's? No, definitely not. Who was it that lived in that giant wasteland again...? Russia. That was it. But was Russia the place with the snow, or...?

England was right. He _really_ needed to brush up on his geography.

America adjusted his hat and patted the ostrich beneath him. Yes. Ostrich. His dream could have conjured up a horse for him to ride like a normal cowboy, but instead it decided an ostrich would be more interesting. And not a normal ostrich either, but one with red eyes. A demon hybrid, no doubt. America had named him Voldemort, finding the name to be quiet fitting, especially with the evil aura that the creature gave off.

He shook his now empty water flask and looked down to the bird with a heavy sigh.

"Nothing to do now, dude. We can only press on."

Volxemort clearly didn't like that idea. He let out a piercing shriek and America found himself thrown all over the saddle as his substitute horse tried to buck him off.

"Woah, woah, steady boy!"

He gripped onto the reigns as tightly as he could, but to no avail. Volfemort just became more frantic and only moments later America was thrown straight off, landing face-first into the sand. The fall winded him. All he could do was lie there and try to get his breath back as the sounds of Voldemint's demonic squawking grew fainter and fainter.

With a groan, America turned over onto his back to look up at the blue sky. Now he was really screwed.

Only a mile off, however, another nation was busy at work. Ludwig Beilschmidt wiped sweat off his forehead as he brought the hammer down on the last of the sign posts. He wasn't sure why, but he'd woken up that morning with an overwhelming urge to put signposts up all over his ranch, signposts that would keep out any trespassers. Not that he got any, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

He brought the hammer down one last time, then stepped back to admire his work.

"Whoooo weeee!" With this exclamation, he adjusted the hem of his jeans over his portly belly. "What a day of hard work. Now I'm so hungry I could eat a horse at the beeffen waffle. YEEEHAAWWW!" He took out the pistols he always kept in his belt before shooting them up in the air, jumping up and down in delight. It took the breath out of him, so he stopped, clutching the forming stitch. That was when he saw it. The ostrich emitted a very hellish sounding screech as it ran past. Germany straightened up again, his eyes lighting with interest. A grin broke out across his face that showed his movie star smile with beautiful rotting teeth.

"Well butter mah rump an' call me toast! What's this?" The ostrich ran past from the other direction, screeching again. Music to his ears. "Hmm... looks like meat's back on the menu tonight! YEEHAAAWWW!"

He ran to the stables as fast as his fat little legs could carry him and jumped on his prize winner, Bullseye. The horse whinnied at once, standing up on its hind legs in fright. It was a struggle for Ludwig not to fall off. He tightened his grip on the horses mane as he shouted for it to run like the wind. Bullseye needed no further instruction. He bolted off at once and Germany found himself clutching at his cowboy hat to stop it from flying away.

Unfortunately Bullseye didn't even make it to the gate. Ludwig had a sexy, voluptuous, morbidly obese body that made him the envy of many nations. Sure, he liked to look sexy and get all the girls, but it meant he could no longer ride his horses. None of them could take his weight and their legs often buckled underneath them from the strain of it: the exact thing that had happened to Bullseye just then. He gave a snort and, as Germany rolled off onto the sand, he didn't miss the tone of exasperation.

"Well, how about that!" He murmured, straightening up his hat. "You ain't good for nuffin!"

He puffed and panted as he struggled up to his feet again. For some reason that damned bird seemed intent on repeatedly circling his house, but like hell was he complaining. It just made his job a lot easier. Since he'd been crawling around the ranch in diapers (he still was but that wasn't the point), Germany had been very fascinated by the concept of shooting things. Be it glass bottles, livestock or trespassers on his land he was completely game.

A smile crept across his unwashed face as he got one of his pistols ready. When the ostrich ran past again he would be ready. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ate a proper meal. Not counting the steaks he'd had for lunch that day, the Mc D's, the pizzas he'd ordered, the Chinese takeaway, the triple cheese burgers or his fried breakfast, of course. An ostrich would be something different, but that didn't matter to him. He could see those bones had plenty of meat on them and he had to eat something else. He'd waste away otherwise and end up looking hideous like his brother, Prussia.

Germany sneered in disgust at the though of said nation. It was painful every time something reminded him that they were related. Gilbert was the textbook definition of "bloodtraitor". Not only did he mix with undesirables, but he also... _washed_. A shudder ran through Ludwig's body at the thought of this.

The screeching returned and the blonde nation indeed was ready. He took a shot and the ostrich fell straight to the ground, never to shriek demonically again.

"YEEEHAAWWW!" Germany shouted, jumping up and down again. His belly jiggled as he shot his guns up in the air. Quickly growing out of breath, however, he stopped, doubling over from the effort of moving. That was when a shadow fell over him.

"Dude," said a familiar voice, velvety and very seductive, "what did you do?"

"Oh howdy there partner," Germany gave a friendly smile, "I just shot that ostrich over there that I'm gonna have for dinner tonight - and I don't know why in tarnation that phrase is underlined."

America couldn't contain his rage any longer. "MY OSTRICH!" He felt his face heat up.

Germany folded his arms. "Well hold on a minute, partner. I shot the ostrich so that lil critter belongs to me!"

"Well," America narrowed his eyes into a glare, "_partner_, he was mine first. My pet! And YOU just shot him!"

"Well that's just too bad. I'm as hungry as a chicken at feedin' time and I'm gonna eat 'im!"

On hearing these words, Americas whole demeanour suddenly changed. Fury was replaced with a slyness and his top lip curled up into a sneer.

"Oh, you can do that, GermAny, but in doing so you're agreeing to go to war with me."

"Hmm..." The morbidly obese nation stroked his greasy, lice-ridden beard as he pondered. "Go to war, not have dinner... Go to war not, not have dinner..."A look of determination suddenly fell upon his face and he looked America straight in the eye. "It's on, partner."

The two leaned forward, sending each other death glares, as they shook their unwashed hands. America did an impersonation of Germany's southern drawl.

"Like mud on a pig."


	2. England takes a shower

Chapter two: England takes a shower

(I dnt own da lyrks 2 da song in dis chapta)

And so began World War One. In this historically accurate anime, the rest of the series of events are explained as follows:

It was a peaceful day in the United Kingdom and the sun shone brightly as usual. Arthur Kirkland, the personification of England, had decided to do his yearly routine of washing. He put on his pink, frilly cap and jumped in the shower, relishing the warm water on the back of his neck. The bathroom echoed loudly with the sound of his heavenly voice as he practiced his freestyle skills.

"YO, I HAVE THE TEC-9 IN MAH WAIST, I GET ALL UP IN YO' FACE, AND YO' ALL WHAT! AND I GO HEEELL NO! THEM HOMIES FEAR ME IN DA HOOD, THEY KNOW I UP TO NO GOOD, THE LADIES WANT MY SEXY BOD-"

Something moved from the corner of his eye. England darted his gaze around the room, but saw nothing.

"H-hello?" He inwardly cursed himself for stuttering. "Is anynation there?"

Only silence answered him so he continued, this time with one of his favourite songs.

"DIDN'T HAVE TO BLAST HIM, BUT I DID ANYWAY HEHEHE THAT PUNK HAD TO PAY! SO I JUST KILLED A MAN! HERE IS-"

There was a crash from the direction of his medicine cabinet. England almost dropped his backscratcher in shock. He saw that several pill bottles and various utensils had taken a tumble into the sink. _He could have sworn he'd closed that door._

"Flyin' mint homie?" He called out. "That chu? Chu playin' wit me? Yo know I ain't got no time for this shit!"

Again, silence. After giving a heavy sigh, he continued with his rap.

"HERE IS SOMETHING YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND-"

"How I could just kill a man!" America seemed to appear from nowhere when he said this. All England knew was that the blonde nation was suddenly in the shower with him. This time his backscratcher clattered to the ground as he jumped out the shower in shock, his heart pounding. To America's dismay the morbidly obese African-American nation had bubbles covering up his dingaling. (Although, even without them, England's stomach would have still covered it up.)

"SHIT! MOTHERFUCKER!" England shouted, covering himself with a 50 cent towel. "What the hell chu think chu playin' at?"

America smirked and swayed his hips as he walked out the shower. Save for a pair of kinky red high heels he was stark naked. He looked good and he knew it. All eyes in the room were upon him.

"Oh", he twirled a strand of blonde hair around one finger, "I just thought I'd drop by to say that we're at war with Germany."

"Shit homie! What you do?"

At these words fury blazed in the American's eyes. "I DIDN'T DO NOTHING, DARLING! I'M THE HERO! IT WAS GERMANY WHAT DUNNIT, YE? HE SHIT MY OSTRICH!111"

Annoyance was on England's features. "That it? You break into my motherfuckin house to tell me you and Germany are having a fight about a goddamned ostrich? Fix it by yourself, dogg!"

"Oh PLEEEEASE England... uh... home. I need you on my side!"

"And fight a motherfuckin ostrich war? Heeell no! Ain't nobody got time for that!"

America sighed, turning away. "Okay then, darling. Oh well. I was going to ask you to be joint leader with me since as you're the most powerful empire in the world an' all, but..." He gave an exaggerated sigh, "I guess I'll ask France instead. His creme brûlée is simply to die for."

There was a very devious smirk on America's face as he made towards the door.

"Let's roll," England suddenly said from beside him. When America looked he almost gave a start. The obese nation was fully dressed in his gangster clothes complete with shades and a lot of guns in his belt. America's smirk grew.

As usual it was a sweltering hot day on the land of Germany. Gilbert Beilschmidt, also known as Prussia, wiped sweat off he forehead as he made for his younger brother's ranch in the desert. As usual it was in a state of disarray with chickens roaming free, half the car sticking out the upstairs bathroom and garbage littering the front courtyard. Prussia, the evil and foul being, covered up his nose and cautiously entered through the front door which had been left ajar.

"Hello?" He called out. "Anynation home?"

He cringed at the sight of more garbage scattered around the hallway as well as the occasional pile of manure. On the wall hung pictures of clowns, orcs and Moe Syzlack. A loud grunt suddenly sounded from the kitchen so Prussia peeked around the doorway. The sight that met his eyes caused him to slap his forehead in annoyance.

Germany was asleep at the table, snoring his head off, and with a giant ostrich skeleton on the plate before him.

"Dude! What the hell?!" Prussia shouted. Germany awoke with a start. "Where did you get _that_ from?"

Ludwig adjusted his cowboy hat and turned to look at him. "Oh howdy there brother, this lil baby was a gift from America." He burped loudly as he patted it.

"How thoughtful." The look on Prussia's face was slightly nauseous. "Don't you have _enough_ food?"

"A cowboy can never have enough food." With Germany's second burp the skeleton crumbled to dust.

Prussia took a step back.

"Right... well, I just stopped by to drop off this parcel the mailman gave to me - for some reason he's too scared to come on your land. Something about a horrible, soul-destroying stench-"

"YEEEEEHAAAAAWWW!" Germany screeched beautifully, almost piercing his brother's eardrums. "That'll be mah new rodeo hat!" He quickly snatched the parcel from his brother, wildly tearing the paper away. Soon enough a tall cowboy hat was revealed, another one to join his extensive collection. Germany flashed a dazzling smile of rotting teeth as he placed it on his head.

"Um... yeah, it suits you," Prussia cleared his throat. "I should be going now..."

"Wait!" Germany shouted just as his foot touched the threshold. "There was sumfin'... er... important I had to tell ya... It's gone an' slipped from mah mind!"

Prussia turned around to look at him, his tone impatient. "You learned the art of washing?" He sniffed the air before cringing suddenly, the colour draining from his face. "No. That's not it..."

"Uhhhh..." Germany's head hurt as he tried to think.

"You learned how to read?"

"Uhhhhh..." He didn't bother wiping away the drool trailing down his greasy beard. One of his pupils looked up while the other looked down.

Prussia started to back away. "Okaaay... I really am going now. It can't be that important if you can't even remember it." He had stepped out into the entrance hall when his younger brother shouted suddenly.

"WAIT! I do now, but you're right, it ain't that important. It's just that we're now at war with America. YEEEEEHAAAWWW!"

There was the sound of gun shots as Germany fired his bullets up at the ceiling. Prussia had lost all colour from his face, his mouth hanging open in horror.

AN: hey does any1 out there know any expressions/slang used in the south (US) or in the ghettos? I'd like to hear them! Fangz!111


End file.
